Off Kilter (12 page)

It was Tessa’s turn to frown. “Are you saying she doesn’t? Socialize, I mean? At all?” Her eyebrows lifted and she smiled. “Or did you wait too long and someone beat you to it?” She knew that wasn’t true. She and Kira might not have kept in close contact, but no matter what life changes occurred while they were apart, they always picked up right where they left off.

She’d noticed their dialogue had been a bit more stilted. Tessa had written it off to her own unwillingness to reveal all her reasons for coming to Kinloch, but perhaps there was more to it than that. She’d thought Kira was a bit too closed up for her own good, but she hadn’t realized her friend never went out.

“She might be communicating with someone, somewhere else, but she’s no’ seeing anyone on Kinloch,” Roan said. “And to answer your other question, she comes in to town to do her
shopping, and is friendly enough with everyone. She keeps up with island business, and she’s definitely dedicated to contributing to our catalog inventory. In fact, she’s very engaged in trying to push the art forward, trying new designs and materials. But she’s no’ one to hang about and chat or down a pint. It’s work with her, no’ play.”

Tessa looked at him again, really looked at him. “Well, I can’t tell you what Kira’s thinking, but you clearly care about her. Maybe if you let your intentions be known, you’d be happily surprised.” He started to speak, but she lifted her hand to pause him. “If she shoots you down, then you’ll know where you stand. No one should just sit in purgatory. Where does that get you?”

He didn’t say anything right off, but held her gaze. He studied her face, looked into her eyes … and, quite suddenly, she didn’t think his thoughts were on Kira any longer.

“What about you?” he asked. “Do you heed your own advice?”

“About what?” She tried to focus, but the tension between them was hard to ignore. And it had nothing to do with annoyance and irritation. At least not as she—or her body—interpreted it. “About socializing? I socialize.”

“Right,” he said, the corners of his mouth curving. “A regular party animal.”

“I—”

He placed his finger across her lips, and she was so stunned by the contact, that she stopped speaking.

“If your life was in bala nce, you wouldn’t be here trying to find that very thing.” He said it kindly, gently even, without accusation. “I’ve seen your work. I don’t know that I’d be able to find a way to play, either, if that was my life, if that’s what was in my line of vision every single day.”

“You find ways,” she said, when he took his finger away. Their gazes were still locked, and it was as if she’d entered a private confessional, where the world didn’t exist beyond the circle where they stood. “You have to.”

“Right,” he said, “but do you? Have you? Or did it, somewhere along the line, become all work and no idea how to play anymore?”

He was probing way, way too close to her most vulnerable place. Even though she’d begun to make strides on Kinloch—amazing, surprising strides—toward something that could be her redemption, those had been tiny, baby steps. She was still far too fragile to handle that examination, especially by someone who had no idea what he was poking at.

She wanted to be all wounded bear and strike out at him, but he was looking at her with the same sincere concern on his face that had been there during their conversation about Kira. While the honest affection was absent—which wasn’t surprising since they were otherwise strangers to each other—the fact that he truly seemed to care about her situation was as alluring as his probing was terrifying. She couldn’t deny a part of her hungered for that affection, too.

Roan McAuley was making her feel—a whole host of things. All of them dangerous to her health.

It didn’t explain why she didn’t back away, or push him off. Much less why she answered him. Honestly. And far more thoroughly than she’d intended.

“Yes, it did. I used to play. At some point I forgot how. Or maybe I simply didn’t feel like playing anymore. I had a job to do. The stress accumulates inside of you, until it affects your every waking thought. And socializing? Yeah, that doesn’t seem as important as just getting through to the next day and figuring out how you’re going to find a way to detach enough to do your job. Socializing is a form of attaching. After a while, I couldn’t, no matter how inconsequential or trivial. Not if I wanted to keep my focus. So, to answer your question, yes, I know how to. But no, I stopped playing around a long time ago.”

She thought her unplanned outburst might have come tumbling forth because a part of her wanted to punish him for poking
at things he didn’t understand. But the instant sorrow that flooded his expression did nothing whatsoever to make her feel victorious. Instead, it made her feel like the pathetic victim she was striving very, very hard not to become.

When she tried to step back, wanting—needing—to put some distance between them, he blocked her so she was trapped between him and the back of the car. She put her hands on his chest, intending to shove, but he covered her hands. Not tightly. Not even firmly. He just laid his palms over the backs of her hands, and kept that steady gaze of his on hers. There was no pity in his eyes, only concern. And maybe even a little worry.

It undid her. Tessa’s issue wasn’t his business, it sure as hell wasn’t his problem, and she had made it clear she was perfectly willing to walk away.

“Go inside,” she said tightly. “Talk to Kira. You want to talk to Kira. You do not want to be talking to me. Take all that care and concern that’s written all over your face, and go shower her with it. She might not believe she needs it, or wants it, but I think you may prove her wrong.”

“What about you?”

“This isn’t about me. It’s about you growing a pair and getting in there and finding out if the woman you’ve been making googly eyes over for the past year and a half has any interest in making googly eyes back.”

“Do you know what occurs to me?” he said as conversationally as if she wasn’t so worked up.

She wanted to roll her eyes, but his hands still covered hers and her heart was pounding too hard. “I haven’t a clue how your mind works.”

His lips twitched, just a little. “You might be surprised then.” His hands curled more tightly on hers. “What occurs to me is that I’ve had a year and a half, and I haven’t made a bloody move.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying.”

“Right. I’ve known you, what? A few weeks now?”

Her gaze narrowed. And her pulse tripled. “Something like that.”

“It occurs to me, that if I was really interested in making a move where Kira is concerned, it’s likely I would have. You might have noticed, but I’m no’ particularly shy.”

“So noted. What is your point?”

“I told myself it was because of her recent divorce.” His eyes widened, mirroring hers. “Aye, I know. We all know. We just dinnae speak of it, until or unless she does. But we know. Not the details, but then, I dinnae suppose that’s necessary. It’s beside the point.”

“It is.”

“Aye. Because, difficult times or no’, I’m beginnin’ to think I’d have made my move anyway—if I was truly invested in the outcome.”

“You’ve come to this conclusion because?”

“Because I’ve known you less than two weeks and we’ve spent most of that time sparrin’ with each other. Yet, you’ve been on my mind like a plague.”

“Please. Stop. I could get a swelled head.”

“Shhh, let me finish.”

He shushed her? Worse, he was amused.

She merely arched a brow.

And his smile grew to a wicked sexy grin. “There is absolutely no reason I should attempt a pursuit of you. We’re all wrong for each other. You’re temporary. I’m no’ leaving here. And it’s quite likely we’d kill each other long before we’d get to any kind of payoff for the work it’s going to entail.”

“What on earth are you talking about?” Her heart was thumping so hard it made the pulse in her ears thrum. She surely hadn’t just heard him say something to the effect of him wanting … her?

He lifted one hand from hers, and caught at a red curl that was dancing in the wind swirling about. He wrapped it around his forefinger, and gently, so very gently, tugged her face closer to his.

“I’m talking about the kind of want where a man doesn’t wait. No matter what. Because I have every reason to go in that croft and do exactly as you say. And no reason—no sane reason—to do what I’m about to do. And yet, that’s all I can truly think about.”

“D-do what?”

He was far too close, and his mouth was far too perfect, and those eyes of his were fair to dancing as he looked quite happily into hers. And she wasn’t even going think about that damn dimple and how impossibly adorable it was.

“This,” he said simply, then did the least simple thing any man had ever done to her.

He kissed her.

H
e hadn’t planned to do it. In fact, he’d spent the drive to Kira’s place listing all the various reasons why he should do exactly as Katie was prompting him to do—ask Kira out. Then put Tessa out of his mind completely. He thought he’d had himself convinced.

Yet, the longer Tessa had stood there, trying to convince him to do the very same thing, the more he knew something was missing. Yes, he cared about Kira, he worried about Kira … but if he’d honestly thought she was the one—he’d have done something about it.

Sort of like he was doing, only with the very last person he would have ever considered doing such a thing with.

Her lips weren’t soft or pliant. At first.

Her fingers had curled under his hand, and he’d heard her breath catch in her throat. But he had no interest in kissing anyone who didn’t want the attention. He lifted his mouth, just a breath from hers. “Have I been mistaken that we’ve just spent the past few weeks in some kind of perverse foreplay?”

Her eyebrows rose, but her gaze dipped to his mouth. “What?”

He smiled, and brushed his lips across hers. She moaned. Softly. But he heard it. “We dinnae want to want each other,” he said, crowding her a wee bit closer to the car, so she had to tip her head back, just a little more.

“No—”

“But we do,” he said, then very, very lightly brushed a soft kiss on her lips. “Want each other.” He caressed her cheek with his curl-wrapped finger. “Don’t we, Tessa?”

“Roan—”

He brushed her curl across her lips, and felt her tremble.

“We shouldn’t,” she said, her voice a husky rasp that did surprising things to his control.

He trembled a bit. “But we will.”

Her gaze lifted to his. It wasn’t the annoyance he saw that almost made him step back. It was the vulnerability. He hadn’t expected that.

“Nothing good can come of this,” she said, her gaze dipping once again to his mouth.

His body leapt in response.

“You don’t want to start anything with me.”

“You don’t scare me,” he said, and it was true. Mostly. She didn’t scare him, but the feelings she stirred in him were downright terrifying. Especially because she wasn’t even trying.

“I should,” she said quite seriously.

“I’m certain you’re right about that,” he said, then wanted to laugh when she looked the tiniest bit outraged. “But in this case, the fire looks so much more enticing than the frying pan.” He toyed with more of her red curls, then slid his hand under them and cupped the back of her neck. “And I do think this is going to be like fire.”

“Is that what turns you on?” she said, pliant in his hands, yet still keeping her gaze on his. “Playing with fire?”

“No’ usually, no.” He pulled her up against him. And she held on. Tightly. He moved so his mouth was next to her ear. “But, you know what they say, Tessa, darlin’.”

“What do they say?” Her voice was barely a whisper of sound.

He grinned, and pressed a hot kiss to the side of her neck, then gently bit the lobe of her ear. “There’s a first time for everything.”

“Roan,” she said, half warning, half … want.

“I know,” he said, “me, too.” Then he turned her head to his and took her mouth like it was the last kiss he might have on this green earth.

There was perhaps a split second while she didn’t respond. Then she tugged him against her, until she was leaning half back across the open trunk, and took charge of the kiss.

And he let her.

Fire, indeed.

Her kiss was aggressive, claiming. It was hot, and intense, and equally intoxicating.

He got caught up in it immediately, his body responding so swiftly he wanted more. A lot more. Right there on the car, if necessary. It was a primal reaction that shot him straight to the edge, like an untried youth who lacked any control, without a drop of finesse.

She was sliding her tongue into his mouth, slipping her hands up the back of his neck, then raking her nails across his scalp, and all he could think about was getting her naked, getting her under him … getting her.

Instinct took over, and he pulled her up against him, moving them until the side of his truck was at his back and she was pressed up against him, between his thighs. She was tall, with lean hips, and legs that went on forever, but he was taller. She fit perfectly.

His hands were in her hair, and he tilted her face, intent on staking his own claim in that visceral mating dance. He felt a gut-clenching, voracious thirst for her, as if he’d been near death and she was the oasis within which he could quite literally drown himself. He took over the kiss, the duel of tongues, intent on assuaging his every need. And hers.

She tasted sweet and he craved more. Their tongues dueled and tangled as he pulled her legs over his hips, then slid his palms up to cup her breasts. She moaned into his mouth and arched hard against him, her thighs clenching tight around him as he pushed harder between her legs. She grabbed his shoulders
so she could move against him, and he moaned. He rubbed his thumbs over hard nipples pressing through her shirt and nipped her lower lip even as she broke off and nipped his chin.

He cupped her cheek, wanting to bring her mouth back to his, to plunge into it because he wanted to plunge into her, but as he shifted her mouth, he caught her expression. Her eyes were open, her body was tense … but she was a million miles away, going on instinct. Nothing more was there.